


But Be Prepared to Bleed

by emperors_girl



Series: The Choices That You Make [4]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Depression, F/M, Foster Care, Implied Mpreg, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-06 01:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12201246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emperors_girl/pseuds/emperors_girl
Summary: "Raven, darling, I have a bit of a favor to ask."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What the fuck is this? This was not the plan. Oh well… we did have a request for more Raven., after all.  
> This takes place after Scott is born but before the TA comes to dinner. Probably. I’ll figure out the timeline later.  
> The TA story is still in the works, as are more C&E chapters. This is just some kind of weirdo side-story.

Charles comes to tea alone, which is never a good sign. In Raven’s experience, Charles only ever leaves all the kids at home when he wants to talk about something serious. The last time this happened, Charles had sprung the news on her that he was pregnant. He’d been nice enough to bring whiskey with him when he did it, though, and then he’d made her tea and poured a double-shot into the mug, too.

This time, when Charles comes to tea, he doesn’t have any whiskey with him. Which is good, since Raven doesn’t think she could take another shock right now. Not after the week she’s had – Kurt teething and teleporting into her arms to cry about it every time she sets him down. The only reason she’s baby free right now is that Azazel had seen the murder in her eyes and decided to take the kid to the park for a few hours. She’d been looking forward to having some time to herself at last, but now here’s her brother looking serious and thirsty.

Raven says, “Should I get down the whiskey?”

Charles laughs, but he looks uncomfortable. He says, “No, no. That won’t be necessary.”

He clears his throat, takes a sip of tea, then sets his cup down deliberately.

“Raven, darling,” he starts. “I have a bit of a favor to ask.”

He pauses and looks at her, maybe waiting for her to say something. 

Raven takes a drink of her tea.

She says, “Sometimes when you open your mouth, all I hear is disco music.”

Charles frowns. “Is that… a gay joke?”

Raven smiles. It wasn’t, but… “It could be, if you want.”

“No,” Charles decides. “That’s quite alright. Look, are you willing to hear me out or not?”

Raven waves a hand for him to continue.

Charles says, “I’ve had a call from Moira.” He pauses, looking at her expectantly for a moment, then shakes his head slightly. “Sorry, I’m used to that sentence provoking a stronger reaction. Anyway, I’ve had a call from Moira about a child she needs fostered.”

“Oh my God, Charles,” Raven cuts in. “You do **not** have room for any more kids!”

“No,” Charles agrees, and he seems sad about it. “Not unless we open up the estate. But that would mean a complete lifestyle change for all of us, and I’m not sure we’re quite ready for that. But on the other hand, I hate to tell Moira flat no for the sake of space. It’s not like we don’t have the money.”

“I remember a time,” Raven says, mock-nostalgically, “when Erik used to say, ‘Money doesn’t solve everything.’”

“If by ‘a time’ you mean last week, then yes, I recall that, also.”

Raven had actually meant when she was a teenager and they first got the money back, but she absolutely believes Erik’s still saying that. Anyone dumb enough to marry Raven’s brother has to be tenacious by nature.

“Well what are you going to do?” she asks. “Not like you can just build another shanty shed in the backyard to stick more kids in.”

She’s half-laughing, but then she sees Charles’s expression and her mouth falls open.

She says, “Charles, you cannot have this kid live in your backyard!”

“No,” he agrees quickly. “Of course not. But we can add on to the house, give ourselves more space. Or else we can build something in the backyard to act as a playroom and turn the basement into another bedroom. Alex would welcome the space, certainly.”

Raven says, “Okay, that makes sense, I guess. So what the hell do you need me to do? I don’t know much about construction but Kurt has a toy plastic hammer I’m sure will come in handy.”

Charles smiles, obviously charmed by the thought. Then his mouth resolves itself again into a frown and he says, “That sort of construction is going to take time. Even if we get someone on it right away, it will probably be weeks at the very least before it’s finished. In the meanwhile, the boy doesn’t have anywhere to go.”

Feeling slightly confused, Raven says, “So you want me to… find him somewhere to go?”

“No,” Charles says slowly. “I found somewhere for him to go. I just have to convince the person in question to take him.”

He stares at her with those big blue eyes.

It takes a long moment for the penny to drop.

“Oh, my God!” she says at once. “Are you crazy? You want _me_ to take him? Charles, I am in no way qualified for that.”

“You’re a licensed foster parent,” Charles points out.

“Because you made me,” she reminds him. “As a backup plan, not as a first option!”

“This isn’t the first option, Raven. This is the very definition of a backup plan.”

“Charles, look, it’s not like I don’t care about your kids. I’m a fantastic aunt to them. But I did not take all the stupid child psychology classes you did, and I don’t have Erik’s experience with the system. I’m not qualified for this!”

“You were in the system,” Charles reminds her immediately, and he looks sort of indignant about it.

“Yes, until I was eight. And I won’t pretend it wasn’t fucking awful and traumatizing, but that was like fifteen years ago. I was just a kid.”

“Yes,” Charles says. “And so is he.”

And God damnit, how is he always so fucking right about this shit? How does he just get to keep butting into her life and telling her what to do?

But how could she tell him no after that? Even if she’s laughably underqualified (and she is), she’s going to remember this moment forever as a failure if she doesn’t do something.

“I really hate you sometimes,” she tells him, and she doesn’t know if it’s true or not. Charles probably knows which, that fucker.

He bites his lip and looks down at his tea cup.

He says, “I’m sorry, Raven. I wouldn’t ordinarily ask you to do something you’re so uncomfortable with. But… this boy doesn’t have anywhere else to go. There aren’t that many mutant foster parents in this area, and this child cannot be with humans right now.”

Well, that sounds about par for the fucking course. This was never going to be an easy favor. That’s not Charles’s style.

“What the hell’s wrong with him?” she asks.

Charles makes a face like he’s eaten a Warhead.

“Nothing’s… wrong with him. Not exactly. He’s just a bit stroppy, is all. But understandably so. He was adopted, you see, and he’s been more or less hiding his powers ever since he was young. But, er, the latest phase of his mutation has suddenly made it much more difficult to hide, and his parents weren’t exactly accepting of the situation. He’s run away three times, and the father has a history of violence.”

“What was the latest phase?” she asks. She’s picturing fur or feathers or maybe horns.

“You’re half-right,” Charles says, catching her thoughts. “Here, I have a picture Moira forwarded me.”

That doesn’t sound quite legal, but whatever. Raven takes the phone Charles hands her and gets a good look at the kid for the first time.

“Oh my God!” she says, looking up at him incredulously. “He’s blue! You only want him to live with me because he’s fucking blue! Charles, that’s racist!”

“Blue isn’t a race, darling,” Charles tells her. “And anyway, you’re missing the part where it’s only temporary. Erik and I will take him back once we’ve finished with the construction.”

Raven sighs. She pinches the bridge of her nose. She drinks the last of her tea.

She wants to be pissed off about the whole thing, because this is fucking typically Charles – wanting to save the world and expecting everyone else to just go along with the plan. 

The worst part is, she’s not even really mad at him, because he’s only doing what he thinks is best.

The question is, can Raven convince herself to go against him on this? Could she live with herself, knowing she didn’t help a child in need?

Probably not.

At last, she says, “I really don’t have a choice, do I?”

Charles bites his lip, then says, “If you really don’t want to do this, darling, you don’t have to. I thought it would be ideal, but I can always ask Moira to place him with a human family until we’re ready. They’re not all terrible, of course, and some are very accepting.”

Raven sighs again. “No,” she says. “It’s fine. I mean, I’m definitely going to screw this up, but I’ll do it. Let me talk to Azazel first, obviously, but he won’t have a problem with it.”

Azazel had his own issues, but he doesn’t have the hang-ups Raven does about being perfect. Not surprising, because Azazel has never had a brother like Charles.

Charles’s indrawn breath and stung expression tells her he’s almost definitely heard her last thought. She feels sort of bad about that, but if he’s in her head, he just has to deal with the things she thinks. She doesn’t apologize.

“Raven,” Charles says, and takes her hand. “I only ever want for you to be happy. I love you.”

“Yeah,” Raven says, feeling sort of choked up all of a sudden. “I know. I love you, too.”

Sometimes it doesn’t make anything better, but this isn’t one of those times. 

Besides, it’s not like it’s going to be torture. The kid’s probably going to be a brat, but all Raven really has to do is give him a bed to sleep in for a few weeks. That’s not the worst thing in the world. Charles can deal with everything else. He’d better get a bigger dining room table, because Raven’s definitely going to let him do the heavy lifting here. 

“When’s the kid coming?” she asks.

Charles accepts the change of subject, and they get on with their tea. He tells her he’ll have to talk to Moira and then get back to her about timing, but probably they’ll want to move the child within the next day or two.

Before he leaves, Charles takes her hand again.

He says, “If you change your mind, let me know. I never want you to feel like you have no choices.”

It’s his way of apologizing without taking anything back, but he really means it, so she forgives him.

As she’s seeing him out, she remembers suddenly.

“Oh, what’s this kid’s name?”

“I suppose I didn’t say,” Charles says. “It’s, er, Loki, I think.”

“Right,” Raven says, and wonders if she should put that up in cutesy letters on his door like they have for Kurt. “Well, bring it on, I guess.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mapped out the rest of the fic, and there are two things everyone should definitely know before reading on:
> 
> 1\. There are going to be some dark themes (referenced in the tags). Without giving too much away, Loki's state of mind here is going to be largely based on his anguish in the first film. The ending will not be unhappy, but there's no miraculous solution for his problems, either. 
> 
> 2\. This is going to bounce back and forth between Loki and Raven’s POVs.

Loki doesn’t think much of the neighborhood the social worker brings him to. It’s an upper class area, and he knows by now that wealth almost always means tragic secrets. He hadn’t known that for sure, once, but now he does. Rich families have secrets, and those always come back to haunt them (although, if Loki can help that process along, so much the better).

The social worker says, “Technically, you’ll be their first foster child, but don’t let that fool you: they’ve got plenty of experience. Her brother, Charles,” (and there’s something about the way she says the name that catches Loki’s attention) “has a long history with the department, and the whole family has always been great.”

“Are there other children there, Miss MacTaggert ?” Loki asks. Purely in the interest of gathering information, of course. 

She looks at him, smiles encouragingly, and says, “Only one where you’re staying: Kurt, who’s about eighteen months. But Charles has a whole house full, and I’m sure you’ll be seeing a lot of them.”

And that, Loki thinks, could go either way. He doesn’t have a great deal of experience with other children – preferring, as he does, to be alone – but he remembers what it was like to tag along after Thor’s friends when they were all younger. He remembers having quite a bit of fun leading them astray. (He also remembers Thor being angry about Loki’s games, but always forgiving him, and that’s a recollection he could quite do without, thank you.) But on the other hand, children are merciless (he knows because he was one of them) and it’s now painfully obvious to everyone with eyes that Loki is different in odd and unacceptable ways. 

The social worker distracts him from his morose thoughts with idle chatter about Loki’s placement. He listens carefully as she talks, trying to pick up anything that might prove useful later. He keeps an aura of shyness about himself the entire time, because she’s been responding well to that so far and Loki knows better than to mess with success.

They finally reach their destination: a house like any other on the street, complete with a manicured lawn and a pure white wooden fence. A perfect house for a perfect family, but of course that’s only ever a front.

The woman who answers the door is blonde and beautiful, and Loki resents her for that because she reminds him of Thor in the worst of ways. When she speaks, too, she has an unconscious confidence that Loki thinks can only lead to destruction.

She says, “Whoa, okay, you’re early. Hey, come on in.”

She doesn’t stare in a way that means she very obviously wants to, and Loki resents her for that, as well. There’s nothing he can do about it, though – not until he knows more about her. Only a fool acts on impulses alone, and Loki is not a fool. He needs to wait, figure out where this woman is weak, and then he’ll decide if she’s worth trying to destroy.

The social worker doesn’t stay long. There are a few minutes of awkward conversation, and then suddenly Loki is quite alone with his new foster mother, Ms. Darkholme. He’s not nervous at being alone in a new situation (that’s what he tells himself – he’s always been very good at fooling people, and he himself is no exception to that rule).

Ms. Darkholme says, “Let me show you your room. The baby’s sleeping, though, so try not to make too much noise.”

Loki isn’t Thor; noise isn’t going to be a problem.

He trails after Ms. Darkholme up the stairs and into a plain room that smells faintly of Lemon Pledge. The floors are swept and the bed is made up neat as a pin. Father would approve. Loki approves, as well. He enjoys having things exactly so, though he could stand with a little more grandeur; drapes and finery never go amiss, as far as he’s concerned.  
But for a temporary bedroom, Loki could do worse.

He puts his bag down on the bed and says, “Thank you, Ms. Darkholme.”

Polite is always the way to go in a strange situation, but he might as well save his manners for all the notice they’re paid.

Ms. Darkholme says, “Yeah, no prob. So listen, I’ve got to run downstairs and grab my phone. I told my brother I’d call him when you got here. You need anything in the meantime?”

Loki says carefully, “I’m sure I’ll have everything I need,” because sometimes the best lies are the ones you barely have to tell.

She leaves the room and he hears her going down the stairs. When she’s at the bottom, he abandons his bag and does the quickest, most silent investigation he’s ever conducted (and that’s saying something). He goes first into the master bedroom and checks the drawers and the closet, looking for anything incriminating. For the most part, he finds clothes, though the nightstand does contain a flip-top container with what he surmises to be birth control. He checks under the bed, as well (that’s where that imbecile Thor always keeps his smut), but all he finds are dust bunnies and a single abandoned sock.

How very disappointing.

Still, he doesn’t give up as easily as all that. This family almost certainly has secrets, and he aims to find them. He will _not_ be thrown into this situation completely blind.  
He can faintly hear Ms. Darkholme downstairs speaking to someone – presumably her brother – and though he wants to eavesdrop, he thinks he should take advantage of her absence to explore the other rooms. There will be plenty of time to eavesdrop later once he’s settled in.

He opens the door to the nursery, thinking a baby’s room would be an ideal place to hide something you didn’t want found, because who would ever think to look there? The room is dark and silent except for the faint sound of the ocean – which confuses him until he sees the speaker mounted above the crib. Children must enjoy the rhythm of the ocean. The water sounds unnerve him and he determines to make his search a quick one.

He fully intends to go through the baby’s drawers and closet to find any secrets that may be hidden there, but the light is too poor for that. Well, he’s not helpless. Easy as breathing, he calls up a ball of light. It’s illusion, nothing more, but it gives him a better view of the crib – and of the child who sleeps within.

When he sees the baby, he honestly doesn’t believe it. He thinks at first it’s a trick of the light, but the light is his and it only plays tricks he wants it to. He takes a small step forward, eyes fixed on the child.

He’s… blue. The baby is blue. Blue with etchings on his skin. Blue with a pointed tail curled up around himself.

Loki stares and stares, barely breathing.

Then he hears footsteps coming near and knows his time is up – wasted staring at a blue devil child. He doesn’t have his answers, but he can’t be caught in here. He slips quickly and quietly back into the hall and then into his room before he can be caught out.

“Sorry about that,” Ms. Darkholme says when she sees him calmly sitting on his bed with a book on his lap. “My brother loves to talk. Anyway, where were we?”

XXXXX

Loki spends the rest of the day pondering the blue child, even as he pretends to be occupied with his reading. Ms. Darkholme lets him sit quietly on the sofa downstairs while she putters about doing housework. Loki watches her closely from behind his book, trying to solve the mystery.

Who is the blue child upstairs, really? Is he another foster child? Does this family only take in blue children? Is it some sort of fetish or are they exploiting the oddity in some way?

Loki doesn’t know why anyone would _want_ a blue child. His parents – and they’re **not** his parents – certainly hadn’t. They’d never said outright, but Loki could see it in their faces when they looked at him in those last few days before everything went to hell. And Loki doesn’t blame them for that; he certainly doesn’t consider blue skin a favorable quality. But until he can figure out how to reverse the process, he’ll simply have to live with it.

When the baby at last wakes from his nap, Ms. Darkholme brings him downstairs and lets him play in the living room, where he’s as startled by the sight of Loki as Loki was at the sight of him. Loki keeps watching him while pretending not to do so, but the baby has no such subtlety – he stares openly at Loki and more than once wobbles over almost close enough to touch. Through it all, Ms. Darkholme says nothing about the similarity, and that Loki knows must be deliberate. She’s playing some sort of long con, and Loki goes along with it because she’ll not get a reaction from him so easily.

On the other hand, he can’t entirely hide his shock when Ms. Darkholme’s husband comes home from work. One second Loki and the child are alone in the living room while Ms. Darkholme goes to the laundry, and the next second there’s a giant red demon with a knife-sharp tail standing before him.

Loki’s breath freezes in his chest, but the man simply looks at him with his head slightly cocked. Then he nods amiably and turns to scoop the baby up into his arms. The child, at least, is not afraid, and throws himself happily into what must be his father’s arms.

Ms. Darkholme then comes back into the room carrying a basket of unfolded linens.

She says, “Hey, Zee. You meet our guest?”

To Loki, she adds, “This is Azazel – Kurt’s dad. Don’t mind him popping in and out. It takes some getting used to.”

Loki can’t stop himself. He says, “Indeed,” with some feeling.

XXXXX

It seems to be customary that Ms. Darkholme and co. decamp to her brother’s house for dinner some nights. This is apparently one of those nights, so Loki follows them down the street, eyes peeled for anything anomalous or useful on the journey.

The house in question is barely a block down the street and is similar in style to Ms. Darkholme’s residence. They walk in the front door without knocking, and they’re immediately greeted with a chaos of noise that makes Loki’s heart start to pound. His afternoon has been dreadfully quiet with no scope for mischief-making, but he can tell with hardly a second glance that this house is going to be a much easier target.

The first thing he notices is how many children there are. Raven’s brother Charles – after welcoming Loki to his home with appalling sincerity – introduces them one by one. There are the young ones (Scott, David, and Lorna) who stare at Loki with wide, innocent eyes. They think him a monster, no doubt, and he doesn’t blame them. He can almost forget for hours at a time that he’s a freak of nature, but then he’ll catch sight of his hands from the corner of his eye or he’ll happen upon a mirror, and then he feels again the terror (the same terror he’d felt the first night after the change came upon him when he’d wept like a child in fear of a monster, but the monster was him and he was the monster).

It’s almost worse when Loki meets the older children, because they’re too polite to mention his obvious deficiency, but that doesn’t mean they don’t notice it. It’s like a lie, and for all his love of trouble, Loki hates to be lied to. He would rather have the truth about himself, and anyone who insists on the lie should be taught a thing or two about keeping secrets hidden.

They sit down to dinner all together, as though they’re in a heartwarming family drama. No one hesitates to break bread with a monster. Perhaps they’re simply used to it, with two demons of primary color attending all their family functions. They barely look at Loki, but he thinks it’s not deliberate. Rather, they’re all so caught up in their own lives that they don’t have time for a quiet stranger at their table.

Well, most of them don’t. Charles would have to be the exception. He is the perfect older brother, after all – good and kind but stuck on himself and his own brilliance.

He says, “I hope Raven’s been welcoming.”

Raven – Ms. Darkholme – says, “You don’t have to sound so worried, Charles. I didn’t tie him up out back or anything.”

“Of course not,” Charles says quickly. “I wasn’t implying anything like that, darling. I would never criticize the way you care for a child.”

“’Oh, Raven,’” Raven says in a passable imitation of her brother’s accent, “’are you _sure_ you should be weaning Kurt already?’”

“Don’t hear words I didn’t say,” Charles says quickly, holding a finger up to silence her.

“’Raven, darling,’” Raven goes on, “’don’t you think it would be better if Kurt interacted with other children more often?’”

“A suggestion, nothing more,” Charles hurries to say.

“’Now Raven-’”

“Now Raven,” Erik says, effectively cutting her off in a way Charles’s protests hadn’t. Loki thinks he’s going to end the argument, but then Erik smiles a terrifying smile and says,  
“The limits of this argument are far too narrow. Think of all the infinitely quotable material he’s given you over the years that’s not child-related.”

Loki knows then that this man is a kindred spirit. 

“I should,” Raven says easily, “but the more I think about it, the more I realize I can’t scar the kids like that.”

“After dinner, then,” Erik says.

“I will fetch us wine,” Azazel offers quickly.

“Papa,” the little white-haired girl, Ororo, says in a whining voice, “You said we were going to play Clue after dinner.”

“Ah,” Charles says. “Right you are, darling. Raven, I’m afraid you’ll have to take a rain check on making fun of me.”

“That’s fine,” Raven agrees. “Mimosas next week?”

It goes on like that. By sitting and watching (something of a specialty for him), Loki learns quite a bit about this family. The children, for example, all appear to be adopted or otherwise in foster care like Loki himself. Not that any fool with a brain would think otherwise – two men, after all, cannot reproduce, not even when they look at one another with poorly concealed lust in the way Charles and Erik constantly seem to. Therefore, all their children are by necessity not their own.

And that _is_ a good thing. Where there are biological children mixed with adopted children, there’s bound to be clear preference of the former over the latter. Everyone here is equal in their inadequacy, and that’s a refreshing change from Loki’s usual situation.

Loki also learns enough about everyone to form fledgling ideas about where their weak spots might be. That sort of thing can’t be decided in a day, of course, but he can already tell that Charles is kind but arrogant, and Erik is sarcastic and possessive. Raven is teetering on the edge of resentment, and Azazel is apparently without convictions.

The children, who talk mainly about inconsequential things, are less easy to figure out. For now, it’s enough that Loki knows they’re messy and noisy, and those factors in combination frequently lend themselves to mischief.

If Loki can have nothing else in this life, he **will** have mischief.

After dinner, they stay for a rousing game of Clue (Miss Scarlet with the knife in the library), then depart for the Darkholme house. Azazel goes to put the baby down to sleep, and Raven walks Loki awkwardly to the door of the room where he’ll be staying.

She tells him she’s right next door if he needs anything, then she leaves Loki to ready himself for bed. He changes into sleep clothes and then braves the bathroom, where he avoids looking directly into the mirror while brushing his teeth. He can’t avoid looking forever, he knows that, but it’s his only option right now.

The sooner he can get control over his illusion, the better. He’ll never not be a monster, but at least he can hide it under pale skin. He has the power in him to do it, he knows that, and with nothing but petty amusements to distract him, he’ll have plenty of time to practice.

It’s a plan, and he should be happy to have it. But when he goes back to his room and lies down in the dark, the hopeful feeling doesn’t last.

It always hits him at night, the feeling of emptiness, and he can never help but to replay all the terrible things he longs to forget. He thinks of his father’s disappointment, his mother’s tears. He thinks of Thor’s confusion and his perfection. He thinks of the terrible anger he felt when he realized the truth, and the despair that came after. 

He thinks – always, over and over again – of that moment on the bridge when he made a choice, and maybe it was the wrong one.

He thinks of all that but feels none of it. He feels only emptiness now – like starless space or waterless glaciers. What happened on the bridge changed him, and maybe he’ll never feel anything again.

Honestly, he could live with that.

Loki thinks of the bridge until he sleeps. He dreams of ice.

**Author's Note:**

> um... hope you didn't mind a crossover?
> 
> send help


End file.
